The Greatest of These
by Mysweetphantom
Summary: What happened after the mysterious events at the Opera Populaire?


The horrible ordeal of the opera ghost was over and everything would be going back to normal. Well not really back to normal at all. The Opera house was no more, it was nothing more than a shell, the inside floors completely charred and destroyed, and so were the homes of all who lived inside it. Most of the stars of the opera, including La Carrolata, washed their hands of the place. Interestingly the "murder" of Piangi had never occurred, for after removing the noose from his neck (and a wailing Carrlota) it was discovered he was hurt and unconscious but not dead. It seemed the grudge of the ghost was not against the portly opera singer. Carrolata had realized what mattered to her in that moment, and her assistants apparently had heard her say (through some very loud crying) the words "Marriage" and "retire". They were mostly happy at the word "retire".The poor managers, who couldn't help but feel like they had been cheated, decided to go back to the junk ahem pardon me, "scrap metal" business. In fact everyone went their separate ways after the disappearance of the ingénue and her young lover, leaving the now decrepit opera house home to no one but shadows and echoes of sad songs. The ghost had not been seen, but it was whispered that it was because of his dark powers that the fire started, that he had sent the magnificent chandelier crashing to the ground by simply glaring at it with his evil eyes, and that what had actually happened to the young Miss Daee and the Patron the Vicomte de Chagny, was that he had dragged them both to hell with him after his haunt had been destroyed.

All this whirled through the mind of the young Meg Giry as she stared vacantly at her once beautiful, if garish home. She and her mother had lived in a small apartment in the upper levels of the Opera, but it along with all of their belongings, had burnt to cinders. The wind rustled her pale gold hair a little and stung her eyes, at least that is what she told herself when the tears finally came. It all had seemed so surreal, like a play, a mysterious man with the voice of an angel stealing away her best friend.  
"Where are you Christine?" she whispered, her voice lost as the wind picked up into a howl, like a mad man screaming in agony. She shivered and hugged herself with one arm, the lonely sound was too much, and with her other hand she held a sleek white object no one had noticed her take. She raised it to the level of her eyes, such a simple thing, a mask. Turning it over she looked through the eye, remembering the mob, the sloshing of water, and desperately wanting to find the owner of the mask. She thought for a moment she had seen him, but she was probably imagining it. In that dark place at the edge of that dead lake, nothing seemed too real, like the outer edge of a nightmare. Who was he? What had happened to Christine, and Raoul? Why did he live in such a sad place, all alone? And was that the reason he had taken Christine? Why hadn't Christine ever told her about him? Who is he, who is he, who, who who?  
The questions spun and spun around in her heart. She placed the mask very carefully on her face, "Perhaps if I can see the way you saw, I can figure this all out."

"Meg! MEG!" she jumped and hid the mask behind her back, as she turned around to find her mother. "I have been calling you for the past five minutes."  
"I'm sorry Maman…"  
"It's alright Meg," She turned, and started to walk away.  
"Maman! Where are you going?" Meg said perplexed.  
"We are going to our new home." Madame Giry said with the slightest hint of pride "I am one of the greatest ballet instructors in Paris, and there is a theater not more than a mile from here that always wanted to have me come and teach. They have even offered an increase in pay if I work for them!" she smiled. "Life will be a little easier for us mon petite."  
Meg's face echoed her mothers smile. "Maybe we should have left earlier."  
Mamame Giry turned her face away, looking up into the sheet gray sky and blinking quickly. "Now I have no reason to stay." She spotted what her daughter had been trying to hide. Grasping it she looked at her daughter in shock, "Where did you get this?"  
"Maman I am sorry, I tried to hold back the mob like you asked me but I couldn't do it. I found the mask, I didn't want them to destroy it, and I-" She looked at her mother; such deep sadness was in her eyes. Confused and heartbroken at seeing her like this Meg burst out apologizing again. "Maman I am so, so sorry!"  
Madame Giry just shook her head "No. No Meg you are not at fault at all. It is I who have sinned…I." She took the mask and kissed it very gently, a mother's kiss. "I should have protected you Erik, please forgive me…" the tears that had threatened to spill now fell on the moon-white mask. She heard her mother whisper something else, it sounded like a prayer, "Please, please, you keep him safe now, please take him home. He never really had one,"  
Meg's heart squeezed tight, most people knew her mother as a cold mysterious woman, strict and harsh with her students. Only Meg and Christine had known that she was a compassionate person. "Mama, who is Erik?" she asked softly.  
Madame Giry looked up, and wiped her eyes, and handed the mask very carefully back to her daughter, "Someone who is very dear to my heart," she paused and started to walk away again, "And someone who had left this world."  
Meg followed, silently pondering the mystery of those words, and that sorrowful prayer.  
"Erik, Erik was his name."  
……………………………………  
"Have you heard?" A particularly lanky ballerina loudly whispered. "The Ghost still haunts the Opera Garnier!"  
"Non!" a dark haired ballerina replied, as she tied on her shoes. "Do you think he will escape and haunt our theater next?" she gasped.  
The new class of girls were very simaler to the old ballet rats, same silly rumors, and same empty heads. They were preparing for their first lesson from Madame Giry. The arrival of two people who had actually _lived_ in the Opera Garnier of course sparked up grandiose conversations, and morbid curiosity.  
"Yes, yes he longs for the singing of beautiful voices; it is the only thing that calms his damned soul!" the lanky one answered. "And what keeps him bound to the Earth is his feasting on the blood of the living."  
Meg rolled her eyes at this. Was he a ghost or a vampire? She finished getting dressed.  
The loudmouthed ballerina continued. "When he died, he was turned away from the gates of heaven, but rather than go to hell, he made a deal with the devil, to stay on earth and commit his wicked deeds."  
This was getting ridiculous. Meg gritted her teeth, and thought annoyed "When you die, you either go to heaven or hell; no one is stuck on Earth." She looked over at her bag that had her clothed in it, and saw just the slightest edge of the white mask she had placed inside of it. She remembered when she was eight at her fathers funeral, she had cried and cried, and begged her mother not to let them bury her Papa. She clutched her mothers dress, and had cried that he was still inside the box, trapped inside the coffin.  
"Non, non, mon petite, Papa is not in the box, Papa is in heaven!" her mother had smiled through her tears. "Papa is safe and happy, he is not sick anymore. Papa will watch over us from heaven, and someday we will all be together again. I promise mon petite."  
She had stopped crying then, and she knew her mothers words were true, but what if…what if the Opera Ghost really was a ghost, and his soul was trapped down there in that cold cave by the underground lake?  
She gritted her teeth and shook her head, if he was a friend of her mothers, she would not allow him to befall such a dark fate.  
She grabbed the mask from the bag, and placed her cross necklace around her neck, and ran out of the room.  
……………………………….  
Panting in front of the Opera Garnier she stopped. She had ran the whole way.

"Now what?" she asked herself after she caught her breath. She stepped inside and saw it was not as badly destroyed as she had thought, everything was charred, but the main floor was still intact, she clutched her little cross as she made her way as quickly as she could to the place that was a dungeon of black despair.

Somehow she had managed to reach the shore of the underground lake, she felt a sense of triumph,   
"What other ballet rat would be brave enough to try and enter the layer of a notorious ghost?" she thought throwing her hair over her shoulder. But as soon as the thought the word "ghost" She remembered her purpose for being there.  
She knelt down on the ground and placed the mask there along with her cross.  
"Dear Heavenly Father" she whispered earnestly, "please do not abandon your child, please guide…Erik, home to you. My mother seemed to love him very much, so please protect him for us." She furrowed her brow, "Thank you for taking Papa to heaven, please tell him Maman and I still love him very much. If Maman loved Erik so much, perhaps he and Papa can be friends!" she finished with a laugh. "Thank you for listening, and I know you will help him…Amen."  
She kept her eyes closed, she looked as if she was listening to the voices of angels, and maybe she was.  
For she did not hear the dark figure creep up behind her.


End file.
